Conductor of Light
by CallMeElli
Summary: This is just a small idea for a AU fic I wrote up. Thank you all who reviewed- I've decided to continue!- WILL BE EVENTUAL JOHNLOCK . Keyword eventual- I plan on making this a bit longer than anything I've written before. First posted story for me.
1. Army pentions

**_Disclaimer:I don't own this DONT SUE ME_**

_Sylph: (noun.)Slang for human with Fairie ancestry (see Fairie). He/she may possess physical/mental traits of the Fairie species (i.e.: oddly colored eyes, increased height, control of respective elements, anatomical abnormalities)._

John knew he didn't have a drop of fairie blood in his veins. That made it a bit hard to get a job, especially in the medical field, where sylphs, especially water-sylphs, were so valued for their talents in stemming blood flow and enchanting certain objects (or liquids) for healing purposes. Finding a position in the military had been easiest, where most of the men and woman on the front line were for the most part completely human. Nobody wanted fairie blood spilled, after all. Most of the power was kept safely behind the lines, a battle of wills and intellect rather than tact and flying bullets. Gorgeous, tall, angelic beings in tight-fitting suits that spoke with smooth and persuasive voices, issuing out commands as their impossible eyes flicked over the soldiers about to give their lives for Queen and Country. And give their lives they did. Or perhaps an arm, or a leg. You signed away your peace of mind when you entered the army. You signed away your good night's rest, your trust, your being. Everyone knew it. But they gazed right back into the impossible eyes and listened anyways.

The room was uncomfortably quiet, a silence broken only by the rustling of papers and muffled coughs. Occasionally the sound of feet shuffling would fill the room as the line of people moved forward, a new person handing in a sheet of official-looking yellow paper covered in black print, detailing the person's age, name, annual income, and a plethora of other tiny details. People didn't meet each other's eyes, instead opting to look at the beige floor tiles or white, undecorated walls instead. No one wanted to be here. John leaned heavily on his cane as the line moved forward once again, his other hand rummaging in his pocket for his own paper.

John let out a tight smile as he handed the yellow sheet to the middle-aged lady behind the glass. She gave a strained smile back, dropping the paper into a file folder and typing a few things into her computer. Her eyes were a dark red, fiery color, the shade of magma rising from the ground, but her face was soft and the color of earth beneath brown hair that was tied loosely in a ponytail. She was an earth-sylph. Earth fairies were the most human looking to begin with, but judging by the lack of green highlights in her hair and her dead-end government position, whatever fairie blood she had was quite a few generations back. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she finished her typing, looking back up towards John and passing him a small white slip of paper that would have to be kept carefully. It was his only source of income as of the moment.

No pleasantries were exchanged between them. They were both perfectly fine with that.

"Thank you, Mr. Watson. Exit's to your left."

John had been in the low, concrete building exactly twelve times since he had been invalidated from the war. He reminded himself for the twelfth time to ask the lady's name the next time he went in.

_**AN: **_**This is just an idea that I'm willing to expand upon if I get good feedback...this little chapter was just to kind of build the universe. I fear it might be a little confusing, so I am just going to post the first few paragraphs of the first chapter until I get a yes/no on whether you would be interested in reading this story. It WILL BE EVENTUAL JOHNLOCK if I decide to continue.**


	2. Why you don't listen to your therapist

**((AN: And oopsie, violence and definitely not following the show's plot line, sorry loves. I'm actually getting into the story now, despite my delay in the update- beginnings are always the hardest for me, so hopefully the worst is over?))**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. If I did, there wouldn't be SO LONG OF A HIATUS**

_"They keep telling me that I am the last of my kind. 'The only one with the ability to bend light to your will!' they keep exclaiming with perhaps a bit of jealousy, as if being the only one is a good thing, a special thing. Maybe it is for some people, but what is the use of a gift if you cannot pass it on? That, really, is my only regret in this life."_

_ –Dr. Samuel Harden, 1987, in an interview for a public newspaper. He died two years later, leaving no heirs, and is considered the last of the light sylphs by many._

The bedsit was tiny. Maybe that was a bit of an understatement. John hated it, but it was the best he could afford in London until he could find a job. The smell of Chinese food filled the flat, the carton untouched on John's desk. John adjusted his leg, trying to find a comfortable position as he stared at the computer screen. He probably should stop seeing his therapist. The blog idea was rubbish. He had nothing to write, no interesting thoughts or revolutionary ideas that anyone would want to see. He wasn't a writer. He wasn't even special. He was just John, plain, ordinary John, with no interesting traits to speak of, a bad relationship with his family and a distinct lack of sleep at night.

John sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his computer with a _click_. He ignored his quickly cooling food; he would put it away later. Maybe he would eat it tomorrow. If he could be bothered to, of course. Food didn't interest him much anymore, hell, _nothing_ interested him anymore. The days blurred into one another, constant cycles of waking and sitting and nightmares, occasionally interrupted by a visit to his therapist or a meal. No excitement. Nothing. Even Harry's life was more exciting than his.

Harry. John worried about her. How could he not? Ever since the war, he had seen Harry a total of four times. Three of those times she was dead drunk and raving. The first…she had been happy. Happy and smiling and clutching the hand of a pretty air sylph named Clara who was at least five years younger than her. He couldn't really remember Clara, only the feel of her, the thrum of energy that all those with any control over the elements gave off and the flash of silver-blue eyes typical to air types. That one contented scene was all a bit of a blur, really, seeing as he had still been half-doped on medication as his shoulder healed. John wished he could remember it better. Maybe if he could, it would counteract all the bad memories that had occurred a few months later, after the wedding he had not attended, after Clara and Harry had started fighting and Harry turned to drink again.

John flinched both inwardly and outwardly. He didn't want to think about that. His hand clenched where it lay on the table. He forced it to relax. Outside, a police siren screamed past along with the muffled sound of rushing cars. Every sound seemed magnified, resounding in John's ears. He hated it, the dull quiet of the bedsit that made him feel as if he was going insane. Maybe he should go out tomorrow- as much as he disliked admitting it to his therapist; he probably should be getting out more.

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Damnit. _Damnit. _The fog around John was thickening and he was quickly losing his bearings. He had gone to a pub for drinks earlier that night. If you knew where to go, you could assure that no one would ask questions and you could get a mostly non-sylph crowd. That's the way it was for John. He found he couldn't trust himself intoxicated around sylphs- the air around them seemed to buzz slightly (and sometimes, if they were more powerful, the energy felt like it was coming off in waves) and it was disconcerting at best, addictive and alluring at worst. And being drunk definitely sent it into the 'worst' category.

The pub had been wonderfully sylph-free, and John had managed to get himself a few drinks before deciding to head home. Except now he had no idea where 'home' was. The streets were growing narrower and the small pockets of misty light that indicated a streetlamp were growing farther and farther apart. He hadn't seen a cab in ages. Dark shapes occasionally passed by him (sometimes accompanied by a low tingle in the air), people heading who knows where for who knows what. John knew better than to talk to them.

He leaned against a wall near a side alley for a moment, rubbing his sore leg, when a shuffling sound followed by a pained grunt caught his attention. He peered down the alley; catching sight of a dark shape scrambling to his feet, appearing to have jumped (fell?) out a window of a neighboring building. The doctor side of John took over.

"Oy! You okay down there?"

The shadow sprang to its feet at the sound of his voice, and then promptly fell to its knees again. John fumbled about for a moment before rushing down the small alley.

John felt the familiar buzz in the air as he approached the figure, which he could now see was a woman dressed in a ratty dark blue hoodie and muddy jeans. She was heavily made up, badly applied smudges of rouge on her cheeks and dark red lipstick that was smeared over the edge of her bottom lip. A puffy black eye could barely be seen past the black eye makeup that framed her eyes. She had a gash across one cheek, and her eyes were an almost glowing shade of orange against deathly pale skin and badly dyed black hair, which showed through red at the roots. A fire sylph, though she tried to hide how deeply the fairie blood ran, and she was very, very weakened. Why? Was she being mistreated? Had she been assaulted?

"Miss? Do you need hel-"

She drew her mouth back into a snarl as he spoke, revealing canines that were a little too sharp for comfort. Leaping up from the ground, she John against the wall, a knife at his throat. John could see the swirl of yellow at the center of her irises, and the buzzing in the air around them grew uncomfortable. Not to mention the knife.

"Human _filth_." She spat at John, her breath smelling heavily of alcohol and the tip of the knife pressing uncomfortably, nearly painfully, against the skin of his throat. John could feel his pulse racing. A fire sylph with a grudge against non-fairie kind. Oh, this was bad. Fire sylphs were the most violent, untamed of the fairie-blooded.

"_Crippled_ human filth. Not fit to live. Trying to help. Oh, so kind. So noble. So dumb." She was grinning wickedly, palm pressed excruciatingly against John's shoulder as she used her other hand to yank his cane from his grasp and throwing it to the dank ground. Her wrist flicked up again to place the blade on John's jugular vein. "They always are, aren't they? Oh, look at the little girl, so defenseless, so stupid! But I'm not really, dearie, I'm not so stupid as to let you get away alive." She cooed into his ear. John muffled a strangled gasp as the knife broke skin and her hands began to burn. The air became alight with the tang of elemental control. He swallowed thickly, Adam's apple bobbing.

Okay, so maybe it had been a really, really bad idea to go out tonight.

John was squirming, looking for perchance. If only she would be distracted for one moment, then he could just-

There. A thump close to them- someone had jumped out of the window like the woman had. Both John and the woman turned their heads toward the noise, but John flicked his head back just as quickly while her grip was slackened and twisted his arms free, disarming her and clipping her head with the inside of his palm. She dropped like a rock, out cold. John turned to face the figure- a man- unsure of whether he was friend or foe, and not willing to take the risk-

The world went grey as a veritable wave of power rushed over him.

_**AN: **_**good? Bad? I tried, I guess. I love AU's, but writing isn't really my strong suit, so I hope this is okay. Please review/follow/fav/ whatever. ASLO STILL LOOKING FOR A BETA. If you know of one that could help me or would like to beta it yourself, shoot me a PM. The position is open! **

**Goodbye, my dears, until the next chapter.**

**Elli**


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